Because failing to pick ingredients wasn't annoying enough.

The Dragonborn wasn't girly. He wasn't dainty. He hated floral arrangements with the same passion and utmost disgust that Odahviing had shown when it was proven that, yes, humans fornicated in the most ridiculous and out of the way areas (who in their right mind f*cks on top of a mountain?), but damn all to Sovengarde to Alduin's return if he didn't wish he had more feminity imbued in his brawn form. He could not tell the difference between a stalk of grass and the stem of some rare plant that may make a useful poison or potion to save his life.

Quite often were the stares from passersby whom had the luck of gazing upon the hulking form of a man with a monstrous greatsword upon his back , Daedric armor covering him from head to toe, squatting and sifting through flowers like a little girl. One particular skooma dealer had found it delightfully funny, and made quite a few remarks at the larger man's expense.

He was promptly hurled of the mountainside via Thu'um.

This was aggravating as hell.

Squatting once more, he sifted through the grass looking for a particular "spiky grass." Spotting something similar, he grasped it firmly.

When he pulled it to eye level, he was met with a shoot of spiky grass crushed to uselessness in his gauntlet.

Damn it!

Because fishing is for the lazy

Thrask had led a relatively simple life. He grew up dreaming of adventure, was hit by reality in the form of a goat bucking him in the forehead when he had attempted to mount it, took over the family farm, settled down with a nice and attractive enough woman, and had two children. Life was good.

Today, Thrask was taking advantage of his meager free time and doing what he enjoyed most: fishing. After gathering his favorite fishing pole and net from his small tool shed, and kissing his wife goodbye and good morning, he set out towards the nearest stream. As he walked along the familiar and dusty trail, he allowed himself to take in the nature surrounding him: Monarch butterflies flittered to and fro, hawks dominated the morning sky, a fox chased a rabbit across the trail, and the sound of the rushing stream graced his ears. Life was good.

Finally arriving at the stream, he settled himself next to the willow growing near the bank, placed his fishing pole between his legs, tilted his hat back, and dozed off, waiting for the inevitable bite.

Around an hour later, he was suddenly awoken by the sounds of twigs snapping and branches being forced aside. Immediately thinking of bandits or bears, he grasped the hilt of the dagger at his hip, trying to remember what the soldier had done in that old book he'd recently read…what was it? Oh, yes, "The Cabin." Wait for them to lean over you either to steal or sniff, and thrust the dagger into their throat. Ingenious.

However, instead of the expected bandits or bear, a man, clad in a strange and almost demonic looking armor strode past him. Knowing the tales of the only man in Skyrim who possessed that armor, he let his guard down. The Dragonborn would never murder or rob someone, especially a measly farmer. He sat up, opening his eyes, and gave a short wave to the warrior, only faintly allowing the question of why he was out near this stream in the first place to cross his mind.

Surely enough, the fabled warrior nodded in recognition, and continued his brisk pace passed the farmer, walking towards a slightly calmer part of the stream. When the man actually stepped into the water, Thrask cocked an eyebrow, but told himself the man was simply crossing the river. Instead, the Dragon slayer stopped, and faced downstream, towards the farmer, seeming to forget the farmer had been there in the first place.

It was at this moment that the farmer noticed the basket attached to the man's back.

At the same moment, the Dragonborn allowed a single word to pass his lips and echo from his helmet.

"Fus…"

The farmer's eyes shot wide open at the utterance of the first word of a Thu'um.

"Ro…"

The farmer panicked. "Wait, Dragonborn, I-!"

"Dah!"

The stream seemed to lift itself from the ground, a veritable tidal wave screaming towards the hapless farmer, trees uprooting themselves as the unstoppable power of the Thu'um crashed into them. The farmer had no time to scream before he too was lifted and thrown violently backwards, followed by being nearly drowned by the following tidal wave the stream had become.

Sputtering and lifting himself from the mud, the farmer was greeted by the most unbelievably ridiculous scene he had ever had the chance to gaze upon.

Trodding on the now wet and soggy ground, the Dragonborn, slayer of Alduin, hero and liberator of Skyrim, was picking up fish by the handful and shoving them into his basket.

Because not only dragons can fly

"Dragonborn, I must question what exactly your purpose was in bringing me back here," spoke the mighty Odahviing. He gazed uneasily at the townsfolk gathered below them. "They pose no real danger to me, but arrows to my belly are hardly pleasant."

The man in question spoke in an excited and hurried manner. "Oh, trust me, you had to come to this spot to see it. Remember how you said I would envy Dragons even more once I flew?"

The great beast nodded his head in acquiescence. "Indeed. Were you hoping for another flight? You hardly had to call me here to ask. I'm always a shout away, you realize."

The Dragonborn smirked. ..or, at least, he probably was smirking. His entire head was covered by a helmet. "I know, but it had to be here for me to prove my point, because I actually wasn't going to ask to fly again. Check this out."

That said the Dragonborn stood and the edge of the porch, and jumped.

Odahviing's wings spread immediately, and the Dragon prepared to hurl himself over the edge as well in order to save his apparently mad friend. What the great dragon saw next, however, stunned him.

The warrior had extended himself, prepared to do a belly flop onto the concrete, and did a single swimming stroke. Then he started floating.

Odahviing's jaw was in danger of becoming unhinged when the great dragon slayer proceeded to swim through the air at an incredible pace before circling Dragonsreach and coming to a rest in front of the dragon's open mouth.

"Bam, I can fly."